Enough for a Day
by JasperK
Summary: Livio has a peculiar nightmare, and the day that follows allows him to process it.


_Manga Spoilers: Set after Trigun Maximum 14 so yes, a few. (A bit mixed canon with the Anime.)_

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There was nothing like dull boring chores for allowing the mind to work. Livio pushed the broom ahead of himself as he walked the passage between the dorm rooms. Sweeping the floors beat washing up every time. In fact, he had traded this job for that with one of the older orphans. At least with a broom, he could run behind it if the yen took him. Right now, he was feeling rather listless and uninspired. He coaxed the dust out of a doorway and integrated it with the pile he was herding in the middle of the passage. 'Hmm', he breathed and clenched the broom handle tighter. Perhaps washing up would have been better, at least there were people in the kitchen to talk to. No, that was one of the reason's he had traded the job. He wanted to be alone. He did not trust his face to conceal his emotions. He had woken from a nightmare that morning and it had taken almost an hour's run and intense exercise to ease himself out of the horror. He coaxed the pile of dust over the rough tiles on the floor, and then had to go back and reclaim half the pile as it collected in the cracks. It was ironic perhaps, that he had lived a nightmare for most of his life, and while some of those memories returned to haunt him, nothing had measured up to the horror of this simple one. He placed a hand on the wall of the building and breathed out. He had dreamed that he had woken wrapped in his blankets in the middle of the desert. The orphanage had gone; the buildings and inhabitants vanished as if it had never been. It was such a ridiculously simple dream no one else would be able to understand the depth of the horror it induced in him. He had retreated to sweeping to hide and possibly work out why it had scared him so.

The sound of a gunshot woke him from his frustrated musings and he was running with his pistol out before his brain could ask what was happening. The high-pitched wail of a scream tore at his mind. One of the children was shot. Shouts, yells and more screams erupted as he thundered through the kitchen and ran out to find a cluster of children around Melanie. He stared around for an attacker, half fearing his strange bleak nightmare was about to come true by some massacre. Odd, there was no enemy he could see, which only put him on greater alert.

"Livio!" Melanie called, distracting him from his search of possible sniping spots. "Put that thing away! Caleb's shot himself."

The relief that swarmed through his body almost made him float across to her. The long drawn out scream was coming from a scrawny five year old who was clutching his bloody hand. A pistol lay on the ground beside him. Livio stared at it as he felt his gut twist in horror.

"Caleb, let me see." Melanie murmured and tried to comfort him and see how bad the damage was at the same time. Caleb's eyes were fixed on his hand in stark terror and pain and he continued to scream.

Livio picked up the pistol, removed the magazine and shoved it in his pocket. He then crouched down among the group of staring children.

"Did you see where he got this?" He held up the empty gun.

Several hands pointed in the direction he expected, there were only two places they could have got their hands on something that had once belonged to the Eye of Michael. One was his personal gun locker, the other... he had never thought to check.

"I'll bring the car around." He told Melanie. "He's going to have to have a surgeon see to that."

Melanie's eyes widened.

"The money?" She mouthed worriedly.

"I'll find some." Livio muttered grimly, and then smiled because the children were watching.

It was night by the time Livio drove back into the orphanage, the powerful headlamps of the car flashed across the walls. He opened the passenger door for Caleb and helped the boy down. Despite his injury, his eyes were glowing and he danced around impatient to be off to tell his friends of his adventures in the city. Livio fluffed his hair.

"Show Melanie first." He instructed and the boy tore off. Livio shook his head and climbed back into the car so that he could park it in the garage in the out buildings behind. The painkillers were clearly working, which in Caleb's case perhaps were not such a good thing, the boy needed to be calm for the next few weeks so as not to further injure his hand.

Livio walked through the orphanage and found Caleb, Melanie and a group of children clustered around them. Melanie raised an eyebrow in silent question about the money this had cost them. Livio gave a slight smile and a nod, pleased at the relief on her face. He walked on, out of the orphanage and through the night across to Nicholas's tomb. He had often seen the kids playing on the tomb and hanging off the cross punisher and had thought nothing of it. It would have been what Nicholas wanted, but now this had caused the problem. Vash had set up the cross punisher as a head stone, and it had been wrapped and apparently harmless. As Livio examined the wrappings, he could see that some enterprising and curious child had worked out how the straps unlocked. Yes, that would be Caleb. As would his ability to puzzle out how to at least open the panels of the punisher. Livio grabbed the cross and heaved it out of the ground. He had to make three attempts before it came loose. Vash had buried the end of it well.

It was heavy, heavier than his own, though he'd had three, he wondered if that evened it out. He hiked it onto his back and walked around to the sheds. This was not something he wanted too many curious eyes to witness. He pulled the curtains of the shed he used to store maintenance supplies, and locked the door, then cleared the floor and put the punisher down. It was a gun. He had forgotten that. He had known it all along, but it had become something else while standing as a headstone for Nicholas.

He removed the stash of pistols, one of which was missing. He had sold it at the pawnshop, which had given him enough money to pay for Caleb's surgery. It disturbed him slightly; he knew the old man who ran the place at least recognised the manufacturers of the pistol. It was why he had been able to get so much for it. The Eye of Michael knew where he was, they had bothered him a few times since he had settled and he had made them think twice about it. They would try again soon now that they knew money was tight. The old man would get a good bit in reward money for that information. Defence of the orphanage was one of the less pleasant reasons he stayed on doing chores instead of earning money in the city. He had not had the heart to tell Melanie the truth, though suspected she guessed more than she let on.

He spent the next two hours almost enjoying the old familiar chore, as he emptied the punisher of ammunition, then stripped it down, cleaned, and oiled it. He wrapped it up again, empty and harmless as it could possibly be, and ready for use should he ever need it. He examined the clasps wondering what to do about Caleb and his curiosity. Nothing, he concluded, it would help the boy to discover that it was empty.

He packaged the ammunition into a crate and carried it to his gun locker. Melanie raised an eyebrow as he walked past her, but said nothing. He shut the door, drew the latches, and shut the locks again. He then returned to the punisher and picked it up. It was still heavy, despite it carrying no ammunition. He returned it to its position as Nicholas's headstone. He checked his weight against it and it held. Good, it would support the kids who climbed all over it.

He leaned on the punisher and gazed at the collection of buildings that housed some of the most vulnerable members of society. The horror of the odd nightmare had faded. The trip into December had worked better than sweeping. Was it the isolation and the fact that he was making his home here fuelling his fears? He knew now that it had not been about the orphanage or the children. It was about himself and his own insecurities, or worse, his own faith. Hope was still a tentative thing for him, and it would perhaps take a lifetime for him to accept it without fear. He patted the punisher and grinned down at where Nicholas lay entombed.

"Nicholas, where would I be if you hadn't given me bread to eat? Enough to sustain me for one day." He walked back into the orphanage smiling to himself. That was all he needed. Enough hope to sustain him for a day. Tomorrow would bring its troubles and torments, but he knew now, he would have enough to face it. Just enough for a day.


End file.
